


A Warning Beforehand

by orphan_account



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Fiction, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, NHO (New Hermit Order), No shipping, One Shot, Songfic, good lord help me, nice thats a tag, this is a platonic story only smh, why am i getting take back the night vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23965747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: xBCrafted was once a ruler, with the ability to hear the trees whispering potential to him. He meets people that change his life for the better - or maybe the worse.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	A Warning Beforehand

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot I wrote for xB when he hit 300k subscribers on Youtube. It's based off "Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos and a fantasy prompt from one of my favourite books of all time. I was considering posting this on Wattpad, but I've been meaning to post to AO3 for quite a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

_The trees whisper a warning of approaching forces._

xB hadn't expected this. He knew little, but not enough. The wind had carried their whispers high above the ground until it reached him, in through one ear, out the other. Rustling leaves told him barely anything. Their whispers had been ominous. Short and cold, almost like they were on edge. _He's coming_ , they told him. Who? The trees had told him no more. _He's coming_!

They were urgent. Low. Desperate.

xB had time to prepare, but he didn't know what for. He tried his hardest; he strengthened his defences, aided his people, trained his men. Still, his army of thousands were no match for one man. One man who destroyed his kingdom, took many innocent lives. A soldier, akin to himself. Strong and powerful, yet kind and forgiving. The trees never spoke of his name.

He had accepted the soldier in with open arms. Something in the back of his mind told him not to, but he did it anyway. The soldier was weak, hungry and cold, and he begged for a place to stay. He told of a warning that he was being followed, being hunted by terrible people. With that in mind, xB and his guards let him in.

At first, the soldier showed such skill with a sword that xB was impressed. He was good with a bow himself, so the two practiced together, dancing under the stars with weapons poised to fight. They got to know each other through battle. They trained for months, almost memorising each other’s strategies. The mentor comforted the young warrior when he cried in pain, defeat and loss. They showed each other their vulnerabilities and their strengths.

One warm, August night, as the sun was setting, the soldier had disarmed xB. He knocked his sword off the edge of the cliff and apologised profusely afterwards, spluttering over his words and stumbling after his mentor as he went to collect it. xB should've seen the glint in his eye as they trained. Was it a trick of the light, or did he see something mischievous glinting in his apprentice's eye? The man with the robotic arm and eye and Swedish accent had plans.

Perhaps he was the one the trees were warning him about. They whispered something to xB as he was walked down the well-worn path back home, but this time their words sent shivers crawling down his spine and created a bad feeling that settled in his stomach. _Tonight_.

The Arizonian had trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned in his bed, letting his mind wander. What did the trees mean by tonight? Was someone else going to come? What was going to happen? The questions clouded his mind and he stumbled down the cold, silent hallways of his castle.

The attack had come out of nowhere. xB could only register the feeling of a cold, sharp blade against his neck and a strong hand clenched around his mouth. The blade was dangerously close to breaking the skin, and if he moved wrong it would slit his neck with ease. When xB came to consciousness in an empty room, he stumbled out. Everything ached and he felt extremely dizzy. Dried blood stained his hands and his clothes. As he tripped out of the room and outside, what he saw was stained into his mind for years to come.

His city had been ransacked. Burnt to the ground, exploded. There were pits in the well-worn paths where TNT had exploded - the dirt was still smouldering. Heavy smoke drifted upward to the sky and the thick, smothering smell of burning wood choked him. Many of his citizens had fled. xB didn't blame them as he trudged through his broken city, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. The corpses of his warriors lay face-down, the blood still fresh and glinting in the sunlight.

He found the soldier’s body amongst those of the dead.

xB escaped, too. His mind was plagued with the conversation he and his soldier had about those that followed him. They were hunting him down, threatening to destroy his home town if he came back, the NHO, his soldier had said they were called. xB's dreams were haunted by the thought of the man who's name meant 'ice cold' in a foreign language being killed mercilessly by the group. He couldn't imagine the sweet man that knocked his sword off the edge earlier that night and apologised again and again for it being hunted by only 4 men, no matter how much power they had.

The king escaped far, travelling on foot and with nothing left except his will to try again. He found another wandering man with only a book and quill and a daughter to his name. A poet, he called himself. Quick-witted and smart with his words. xB struggled to understand everything he said, but tried his hardest. He never stopped scrawling in his notebook, staying awake until the latest hours of the night and resting when the sun rose.

xB had found more people. A few of them were from his city, and a few were from others. Slowly but surely, he and his poet friend slowly rebuilt a small community. Then, the trees whispered to xB again, their words cold and sharp. He barely caught them before they were gone. _Tread carefully_. xB couldn't believe his ears. Tread carefully with what?! he shouted into the sky, throwing his arms out dramatically. The trees didn't answer him once more.

Over the course of their friendship, his poet friend slowly opened up to the once-ruler. He was from a Southern state and had a daughter with his late wife, who was the sweetest girl xB had met. The poet had dreams of becoming big, so he could provide a good life for those he loved. xB, in turn, opened up about himself. He was from a Southwestern state originally, and lost the ones he loved in the attack that destroyed his city and his life. He told the tragic tale of trusting a man who appeared on his doorstep, who turned out to be somebody who changed him forever. xB told his story with the reminders of his past on his shoulders, that weighed down both his mind and his mood, slowly lifting. He told it all through choked sobs. He told it through multiple glances up at the sky, as though not to let the tears roll down his cheeks.

The two learned something from each other that night - confiding within a stranger may be the best thing for them. But alas, all good friendships have to come to an end. Thankfully, xB and the poet's ended on a good note, but not without a few words from the encyclopaedia himself: a great woman, not one I know personally - the poet started - said one thing: for there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first. I suppose the moral is to welcome others with open arms, but to watch their moves with a sharp eye and not to let them slip past your guard.

The next morning, the poet and his daughter were gone, leaving behind only the words that were stained into xB's mind and the feeling of being lost, once again. So xB tried to rule on his own once more and with time, patience and the sting of loneliness, his kingdom flourished. He found a community of friends that helped him rule, again, and his city grew. But as time passed, a bad feeling had started to dwell in his stomach once again. A feeling that wasn’t new.

The trees had been silent for the longest time xB had even registered. He didn't hear from them for months - perhaps even years - and the next time they spoke, xB was caught off guard.

He felt the familiar, rushing breeze tickle his neck as their words echoed in his ears. _The North is coming_. xB had no idea what it meant, but didn’t try to respond. He’d learnt his lesson from last time. _His brow is laid in thorn_. The trees’ words didn’t leave his mind. xB had lost sleep over the warnings, working out again and again on how to defend himself and his kingdom better. He trained his army harder than last time, created plans with his friends and developed an escape route for his people. A route that was safe.

He finally arrived, after months. xB was the first to greet him, a humble king, average-sized (shorter than xB) and muscular. He wore an apron stained in blood, and a gold crown that sat lopsided on his head. A gold crown engraved with a pattern of thorns.

The king was kind, yet intimidating. There was an air of authority to him and xB felt under his control, despite being the host. He taught him how to handle meat - once being a butcher - and xB enjoyed every second. The trees’ warning weighed on his mind, though. He didn’t let himself relax fully around him. Always on edge, watching like a hawk. He took the poet’s advice to heart and wouldn’t allow the Northern king out of a trusted person’s sight. When xB wasn’t available, a guard or a friend was.

The humble man sat down with his fellow king and talked about himself. He was from Canada and lived there with his wife and brother. He told him that he was once part of a group - a name that sent shivers down xB's spine - but realised that what they did was wrong and left as soon as he could. Once he heard that xB was ruling again, he wanted to meet him in person.

He said that he respected him, that he was an inspiration. He said that he was a fantastic guy who deserved all the greatness in the world. xB had never heard those things before. He hated to admit it, but he broke down into sobs. A Canadian king sat across from him and told him that everything he worked for came to him through hard work. Even in the face of complete devastation, xB carried on. When the thing he loved most got ripped away from him, xB still pushed through. He never gave up, despite losing several loved ones and friends.

For once, xB ignored the trees’ warnings, and let his guard down. He allowed his fellow king to comfort him, a thing both the soldier and the poet did too.

A soldier, a poet and a king all showed him kindness, comfort and friendliness. As he settled into bed that night, xB realised that, though all too late, he believed things that were deemed as dangerous, when in reality they were not.


End file.
